Thranduil Imagines

Imagine: Thranduil, your father, breaking your heart indelibly...

Imagine: Thranduil, your father, breaking your heart indelibly and losing you as a result

A/N: This chapter(s) takes place before the Woodland realm, specifically the forest, was taken over by Sauron's forces and infested with spiders, going by its previous name, Greenwood.

This chapter is going to have more than one part!

I was far out in the Greenwood forest, hidden among the tall stalks of hyacinth, when I first felt a pair of eyes on me. Sensing no danger, I chose not to seek out the hidden stranger and meet their unwavering gaze. Each time I bent to pluck a stalk from the dirt, the shrubbery would swallow my form and I would disappear from the world for a moment. A woven basket dangled from my elbow and lay pressed to my hip as I neatly filled it with vibrant violet stalks of wild hyacinth and whatever the other bushes of flora that caught my eye had to offer. I would assemble for myself a small bouquet from my wide array of selections to put in a vase on the mantle piece of my bedroom or to scatter across my vanity. I would meticulously place the rest of the basket's contents throughout the palace or gift them to elflings who ran through the halls and gardens; their smiles never failing to warm my heart.

After returning to the palace and concluding my placement of little spots of scented color throughout the realm, I started towards my chambers. The basket still hung from my elbow, but all that remained among the amber weft was the small assortment of flowers left for me.

Along the way, I passed by the doors to the grand hall my father held all of his meetings in, and was caught in the influx of several nobles filtering into the hall, as a meeting had just concluded. I weaved through the sea of fine silks on my toes, excusing myself with a soft pardon and slight bow wherever my basket brushed against their jeweled hands. Seeing as I was in the thick of the languidly moving elf lords who conversed amongst themselves, I resorted to press myself against the wall and wait out the congestion.

I could recognize most, as they had made trips to Greenwood all throughout my life, and offered them warm smiles coupled with the best curtsy I could muster, as my space was limited. I was kindly asked of my well-being and some whispered to me benign jests about my father, either questioning his intelligence or telling me his age was starting to show. I laughed softly and playfully warned them not to let my father hear.

Thranduil was the last one to exit through the doors and luckily the halls had cleared considerably by then. His eyes found me among the remaining nobles and he linked his arm with mine as he arrived beside me. Before any greetings could be exchanged, someone had approached and began to speak to my father about something I assumed had been discussed in the recently adjourned meeting. As they spoke, I occupied myself with counting the remaining flowers in my basket, when suddenly, I felt someone watching me again. 

Generally, I would have continued counting the vibrant petals in my basket, keeping track of the number upon my lips without the slightest break in concentration. But, I admit I held just an ounce of curiosity as to who the onlooker may be, as it had happened once already within the same day.

Feeling the peering eyes from behind, I slowly turned my head to look over my shoulder.

I noticed his attire first. He was wearing an ivory kaftan, with elegant robes of azure and gold draped about his shoulders. The satin fabrics fell in rippling streams about his entire frame. His hair was raven in color and it covered the expanse of his back, laying neatly atop the robes. When our eyes met, his gaze didn't falter in the slightest. The look he gave held no hostility or sign of ill-will. If anything, his eyes lay fixated in a gentle gaze, sparkling with a look of innocent observation. It made my heart stall its beating. His structured visage held the nuance of one who seemed to have witnessed and experienced the happenings of a thousand lifetimes of a thousand men. An unspoken duality of enlightenment and deep understanding and scarring of the evils of this world.